


trees of green and red roses too

by Curator_of_Crows



Series: there is a light in your eyes and it never goes out [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Multi, Original characters are mentioned but not the focus, Out of Timeline fic, Referenced Isolation, Sasha James Lives, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Though the hurt is only referenced this is mostly comfort and gentle fluff, Tim Stoker Lives (The Magnus Archives), no beta we die like men, rushed and ill-prepared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator_of_Crows/pseuds/Curator_of_Crows
Summary: Waking up in the safe house, Sasha thinks.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Series: there is a light in your eyes and it never goes out [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944421
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	trees of green and red roses too

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao I wasn't going to tag that Sasha lives in the main fic until I got to the big reveal but I want to post these snippet ideas I have that don't fit in the main story line. It't not an elaborate piece, but I was craving a lil cute  
> I was gonna say that this would make more sense if you read the big fic accompanying this, "A Light That Never Goes Out", but this is waaaaay further in the future than where I'm at in this story. I just wanted some cute emotional aftercare, because this piece takes place after Ollie, Cosme, Jon, Tim, Martin, and Sasha escape the Institute and go to the safe house. Six people in the safe house is gonna be a pain to write but I wanna write it anyway lol  
> Enjoy

It was almost picturesque.

Maybe that word didn’t fit, Sasha thought to herself, as there weren’t many pictures one could hear singing birds through or feel the soft breeze from. Maybe someone could, but in that moment, Sasha was very aware that she wasn’t staring at a painting but was looking through her own eyes.

Tim’s hair was pointing in every direction, too short to be weighed down messily by gravity, like Jon’s. He slept soundly, the bags under his eyes still present despite his body’s best efforts. Sasha wondered if he could ever catch up on all the sleep he missed out on after she disappeared. He slept soundly, almost too quietly for Sasha’s comfort, but the steady rise and fall of his chest reminded her that he was still alive. He was real.

She was still there.

Jon was against her back, snoring very softly, and Sasha considered the possibility of holding on to that tidbit of information for gentle teasing later. He didn’t have an arm wrapped around her middle like Tim did, but his forehead was pressed to her shoulder, like an embrace was too much but he still wanted the physical contact to remember she was there.

Martin was behind Jon, his face buried behind Jon’s head. His tall height came with appropriately proportioned arms, meaning he could have an arm around Jon and still reach Tim’s around Sasha. They fell asleep holding hands, she remembered, and though their bodies relaxed enough for that hold to slip, they kept close.

She was still there, a thought she found herself repeating. It had been six months since Ollie pulled her out of the lonely, their stubborn attitude enough for the both of them.

 _“I heard your voice,”_ they said to her, _“I heard your voice beyond the fog and I knew that I couldn’t leave you there, even if I didn’t make it out.”_

Sasha remembered the rowboat she sat in for, god how long was it? More than a year, she knew. It was too small for more than herself, but somehow so big. She remembered the stillness in the air, the rocking of the waves, the cold mist settling above the ocean that blocked her vision and muted her voice.

“Sasha?” Jon rasped through his sleep, leaning up and disturbing the cuddle pile.

As if his voice rose an alarm, Tim jerked up, eyes wide and confused, “Wasswrong?” he mumbled, looking around before finding Sasha next to him. “Are you okay?”

Sasha nodded, “Y-Yeah, just waking up I guess,” she gave a little half smile, “Didn’t mean to take you all with me.”

She felt Jon shaking his head against the fabric of her sweater, “It’s okay, you got cold, like,” he paused and she understood.

Martin roused then, as Tim brought up a hand to hold against her cheek. He was so warm and careful with her, like he had to warm her up but avoid shattering her.

Covers and fabric rustled behind her and she turned to see Martin resting his head in the palm of his hand, “Were you dreaming about the Lonely?” He asked, taking his arm from them to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He immediately put it back, like he needed to be an anchor and to find one to hold on to.

She shook her head, taking Tim’s hand in her own when she found it in herself to speak, “Not dreaming, just remembering. But I think I’m getting better. What about you, Martin?”

He shrank under their collective gaze, like he was admitting to breaking a rule, “I, I _think_ I was, I don’t remember it very well.”

Tim sighed softly, “Guess we still have a lot to work through then, don’t we?”

Jon turned to give Martin a smile, so open and genuine that Sasha felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye, “But not alone,” he said, then turning to meet her eyes.

Sasha was certain that she wouldn’t ever see any of them again, and the slow realization that she was there with them made her breath catch in her throat. Made her heart thump with a joy she had a hard time describing; it wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with. Sure, she knew joy before she disappeared, but not like that. This joy was something else entirely, and even if the threat of the Eye still loomed overhead like an imposing tower, it couldn’t be shadowed.

They repositioned slightly, Tim against her back and Martin in front of her with Jon behind him, needing just a little physical space. Tim made a joke about jetpacks and Jon huffed with little genuine anger in his tone as he promptly stated that five and a half feet was a completely average height and not at all short.

The sun was rising more, spilling more light into the bedroom through the tattered blinds and too-thin curtains, and Sasha fell back to sleep, completely surrounded by the ones she loved so dearly.

She was still there, and it was going to be okay.


End file.
